A carriage traveled along a rugged path.

A pair of gray eyes gazed through the glass, observing the scenery outside.

In the distance, the clouds were dyed in varying shades of orange-red, some with glowing edges, as if gently burning in the horizon.

It presented a brilliance amidst the tranquility.

The twilight in the sky grew more intense, the colors weaving into a magnificent painting.

He slowly lifted his gaze and saw a few pale blue birds flying towards the forest.

The gray eyes shifted slightly.

He clearly saw that the first bird had a small insect in its beak, still writhing violently, not quite dead yet.

The second bird seemed to have some issues with its wing, its flapping slower than the others, but it was still able to keep up with the flock.

At that moment, his pupils contracted as he noticed a gray bird at the end of the flock.

It appeared quite different, plump in body, with black feathers on its face and tail. And at the tip of its right wing...

There was a small wound, bleeding slightly.

The carriage slowly entered the grove, cutting off the view of the sky.

He withdrew his gaze and reached his gloved right hand into the pocket of his coat.

He pulled out a letter, finely enveloped.

Upon opening the envelope, a peculiar scent wafted from the paper.

The handwriting was very neat, and the message was brief, only a few lines.

'Dear Mr. Morse, I have long admired your name.

My name is Mercal, a journalist. Last night, a strange incident occurred in The Unseen Village.'

'We found traces of an evil spirit at the scene, so—'

Before he could finish reading the letter, the carriage suddenly came to a stop.

"Sorry, Mr. Morse, it looks like the bridge up ahead is about to collapse,"

the driver turned his head to speak to the man inside the carriage.

Morse adjusted his coat and stepped down from the carriage.

With his head lowered, he walked to the middle of the bridge.

He carefully examined the ropes on both ends of the bridge.

It was a suspension bridge made of ropes and wooden planks.

Though the ropes were worn, there was no need to worry about them breaking.

A gust of wind blew through, causing the entire wooden bridge to sway like a cradle.

Morse narrowed his eyes in the wind, inspecting the planks beneath his feet.

Then, he raised his hand, signaling the driver to come over.

With a cigarette hanging from his lips, the driver sauntered over.

"It'll hold. Bring the carriage across."

The driver's eyes widened in disbelief at Morse's words.

"Th-this… doesn't seem safe."

The driver looked at the bridge, then back at Morse, clearly incredulous.

But Morse didn't respond.

He simply blinked his gray eyes, staring at the driver.

The sudden stare startled the driver.

'This guy doesn't look like someone you want to mess with.

Damn it, I shouldn't have taken this job. It's going to cost me my life.'

The driver cursed inwardly.

He then jogged back to the carriage.

As he crossed the bridge, he gripped the reins tightly, shutting his eyes, not daring to look at the road beneath him.

Inside the carriage, Morse continued reading the letter.

'Therefore, I would like to request your assistance in investigating.'

Morse put the letter away and then glanced at his left arm.

His left arm was slightly longer than his right, with a small protrusion near the elbow.

'Let's hope you're still useful.'

Half an hour later, the carriage arrived at the entrance of The Unseen Village.

Due to the major incident, the village's residents had been evacuated by the police early on, leaving only journalists and officers in the village.

The entrance was cordoned off with several yellow police lines, with a few officers standing guard outside.

No one was allowed to approach.

Morse handed 20 pennies to the driver, then quickly stepped out of the carriage and walked straight up to the officers.

After explaining his purpose and showing his credentials, Morse was granted entry into The Unseen Village.

The village was small, with only a few hundred residents.

He looked around and saw a house with lights on, so he headed directly towards it.

"This situation should be left to the specialists."

"I don't care.

If anything bothers me, I'll shoot it."

Inside, the voices of a few people conversing could be heard.

Morse was about to knock on the door when Mercal spotted him from inside.

"Mr. Morse, over here!"

Mercal called out excitedly upon seeing Morse in person.

The officers inside didn't react much to Morse's arrival, but out of courtesy, they stepped aside to make way for him.

Mercal, wearing thick glasses, had a scholarly air about him, though his large front teeth would show when he spoke.

"Here's the situation.

Last night, strange noises were heard from one of the villager's homes, and the resident was screaming something about a ghost, a ghost!

But by the time the other villagers got there, the body of the resident was nowhere to be found."

Mercal hurriedly explained the situation to Morse.

Though the explanation was brief and lacked detail, Morse managed to get a rough idea of the situation despite his initial confusion.

"Take me to the scene."

Morse spoke to the people at the scene.

An officer standing at the door waved for him to follow.

The others trailed behind.

The villager's house was located in a corner of the village, and since the resident lived alone, not many paid him any attention.

The room's furnishings were sparse, with only basic tables and chairs.

Some everyday items were scattered haphazardly across the floor.

At that moment, Morse noticed a bloodstained finger on the ground.

He crouched down to examine it closely.

"This isn't the victim's finger. Look closely, there's a wedding ring on it."

Everyone froze in shock. Wasn't the villager supposed to live alone?

And he wasn't married. Could there be another victim?

Creak.

A faint, strange sound came from the inner room, catching Morse's attention.

The sound was so soft that no one else noticed it.

Morse immediately pushed open the door to the inner room and entered.

The interior was even more bare, with just a bed and a window that had been left ajar.

Following protocol to avoid disturbing evidence, Morse didn't touch the window.

Suddenly!

A pair of strong hands covered his mouth.

He tried to break free, but was swiftly pulled into a dark, cave-like space.

"It's the cocoon."

Morse didn't panic. Instead, he calmly observed the surroundings as he removed the glove from his left hand.

The place was pitch black, with no trace of light, only a few disembodied fingers floating in the air before him.

"I'm starving! So hungry!"

A twisted voice came from behind him.

The figure's body had no muscle, resembling a gray skeleton. Only a few strands of hair swayed weakly atop its head.

Morse didn't hesitate. He immediately approached and attempted to grab the creature's neck with his left hand.

"Ahhhh!"

The skeleton screamed and broke free from Morse's grip, using all its strength.

It sent a barrage of blood-red fingers flying out like a wall, pushing Morse out of the cocoon.